


Primary meaning of the word

by Demonofyourheart (SLeclerc)



Category: Naruto
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, M/M, Not Fluff, POV Uchiha Itachi, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 12:06:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19425652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLeclerc/pseuds/Demonofyourheart
Summary: They have been working together for a long time, they made a good team and Kisame has always been a decent person to Itachi. Itachi feels that all the respect he is shown deserve he gives something in return. And so he tries.





	Primary meaning of the word

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the characters in this story; only the plot I have them go through.

Kisame and I, we’ve been together for a long time, in the primary meaning of the word – stuck together almost all day and all night since we’ve been teamed up. I am not sure what in our personality or “work ethic” made it seem like we’d be a good match. Whatever it is, it turned out to be true. 

Kisame and I, we’ve been partners for years, also in the primary meaning of the word – working together as a team. Our fighting styles complement each other; we communicate well even without words, just through actions; we agree on basic mundane things; we are able to set the same goals on a mission; we are both equally good at fulfilling missions’ requirements almost to a fault. 

After many years of knowing him, I know Kisame and I have one thing in common: under different circumstances, we could have been saved from this way of living. He is not a bad person at heart – he is violent and prone to fighting, but I feel like he grew into displaying this type of reactions more than he had it in him from the start. He is respectful: always addressing me as if I were his equal, and sometimes overly respectful, like I was actually important – in the primary meaning of that word also, like I had a worth. He is honest and faithful. We agreed that I would never lie to him, just like we agreed that he would never ask questions – and we agreed that lies by omission were acceptable if they were not putting us in harm way. He never lies to me about anything, not even his past because he always says, always with a lingering sadness in his eyes, that it made him who he is. I could never be honest about mine and he never showed any resentment about that. He learned how to accept things as they come: he is very resilient. 

After many years of knowing him, I realized that I wanted to get closer to him – nothing too emotional, barely an inkling for discovering; but Kisame unknowingly, because of the respect he has for me, always keeps a certain distance from me. Not quite keeping me at arm length, but never crossing any boundaries. His respect even goes beyond the realm of language, to the point that some day I concluded that I never saw his whole body naked. I saw his torso very few times, but he always stayed dresses otherwise. I had been naked in from of him, when I would bath outside if we made camp in front of a river or similar places. Kisame would be preparing the camp or just standing watch as I did. But he never did the same in from of me. 

Until one day I saw him. I was probably not supposed to. I said I would look trough the forest to harvest something eatable and wood for a fire. I did quite easily. I came back to the camp earlier than we both mentally expected. And there he was, in the water, in all his nudity. His back was facing me. In that moment, I understood the kind of closeness I was willing to have with him. The kind he would never grant me. Not now, maybe in a few years. Even if I couldn’t let him in my mind, or even in my heart, I could let him in my body. But, as Kisame was splashing water on his face and hair, now unknowingly facing me, the thought hit me that maybe I could never let him in me. I retreated, back into the forest, involuntarily blushing. 

We never talked about that instance – he never mentioned if he knew I was there, and I never told him I was. The thought – the realisation of what I could offer him of me – stuck with me for a few months. 

As we walk through a village, we walk by a shop selling prostitutes. We had seen enough of those that I knew what was inside that kind of establishment. Kisame lead the way to an inn but my eyes catch sight of another inn. I let him know I would prefer the one I saw. Kisame doesn’t object; he never does. I tell him to go ahead and start eating at the inn. I tell him I’ll go for some intel. It’s a lie by omission. 

When I come back, I do have intel, but also something I bought from that previous establishment. As I paid, the owner smiled crookedly at me and said that I must have a kinky lady at home. I never promised to not lie to this man. When I get at the inn, my heart is pounding in my chest, but my face remains calm. Kisame greets me when I pass by our room, the open door allowing him to keep watch of the people walking by as he eats – like I instructed him to do. He tells me that there is also food for me. I answer that I’ll take a shower first. He asks me if it’ll take me long. I say that it might since I must take care of my hair today. Another lie by omission. He sighs playfully. 

The reason I chose this particular inn is because we came here before, maybe two years ago. I knew there was no bathroom attached to the rooms, and I knew they were small individual cabins further down the corridor. I get in one of those and let my travel equipment in the corner on a suspender, hoping the place was big enough to not wet it too much. I could have left it with Kisame in the room if I didn’t have something hidden in it. I start the shower, barely caring about the temperature of the water. Maybe cold water would make me realise I was doing something absurd; maybe hot water would make me too relaxed to put my honestly bizarre plan to action. It seems the water was neither too cold nor too hot as I was extracting my newest acquisition. I know I should be ashamed or at least a little embarrassed, but my life so far had taught me to ignore those feelings. But never was I confronted with apprehension, the right kind: the one that makes my heart beat loudly in my chest, or makes my cheeks color, or even makes my hand tremble with nervousness. 

I start by washing my body, removing dirt from travelling and some leftover grim from our last fight. I wash my hair and tucked them on the top of my head with my hair tie. I should have left the bathroom at that moment. I walk back to my bag and without caring that my hand is dripping with water I get from my bag what I just bought. I had left it on top of everything else. If someone had barged in the room, this would have caught their eye immediately. 

The polished wooden phallic shaped object sits heavy in my palm. I could set it ablaze and no one would be the wiser. But curiosity sets its own fire in my guts. I consider it a long moment before squatting in the cramped space. I feel ridiculous: maybe shame hasn’t left me entirely. This thing is heavy enough that it stays upright when I set it on the floor, the tip of it touching my entrance, making my toes curl in a mixture of interest and revulsion. I can’t quite place the origin of both feelings. I move my fingers down my chest to wrap them around my flaccid cock, masturbating myself to full hardness. I’m certain we’ve both done it secretly through the years – masturbating. I never knew of Kisame having sex with anyone through all the years we’ve worked together. However, I don’t know the full extend of what he does when he goes on solo intel recovery missions; just like he probably has no idea what I did during mine today. 

Once I feel arousal coursing through my veins, I decide to simply lower myself on the implement I bought. The stretch is painful, but my body has subsisted worst injuries. But my ego has never been so bruised: those tears leaking from my eyes are making me grit my teeth in frustration. I stop moving when about half of the object is inside me; my erection flagged a bit in the process. I start moving my body up and down on it, using one hand on the base of it for both balance and to keep it in place. My other hand goes from touching myself to resting on the wall. 

At some point, I remove the wooden object from my body and simply masturbate until I ejaculate on my fingers, in an unsatisfying orgasm, sperm simply dribbling down my length and my palm. My breathing still heavy, but my heart heavier, I lazily make the hand signs required to be able to light the equally unsatisfying object on fire. The water running in the closed stall suffices to eliminate any trace of my actions. I get up, my lower back throbbing unpleasantly – it wasn’t worth it. I sigh; it seems even the smallest thing I could have wanted to give to Kisame would not be possible. The man, for all his good qualities and few bad ones that he displayed in from of me, deserved I offer him something – anything – that would be authentic. And nothing would have been more authentic than my own self. Maybe, just maybe, I’m the one who isn’t skilled enough to go through with this idea. It appeases me to hope more trials would have me able to do something I set my mind to. 

As weeks and months go by, I buy new training implements along our travels. My health is rapidly deteriorating, but my interest and sexual abilities are improving. My eyesight is barely reduced to a general blur, but my body is way more attuned to my sense of touch. I never lie to Kisame when he asks me how bad it’s getting. He never tells anyone, only keeps an eye on me when we are brought into a fight. He still respects me the same as ever even with my whole self crumbling.

One day, I send him on intel when we get to the inn. He sighs at me but complies. I get to the room and my heart is pounding as I wait. It’s pounding when I train myself for what I am willing to offer Kisame, and it’s now pounding as I decide to finally act. 

When Kisame comes back, it’s hours later, and he’s already scribbling away his findings in this weirdly neat handwriting of his’. He closes the door and uses it to press the parchment against to make writing easier. I call out his name softly. “Hold that thought.” I shut my mouth and frown. The way he is acting, I feel like he can sense the uneasiness in the room. He is not quite fidgeting, but I can almost read his want to leave. When he finally rolls up the scroll and ties it, I see him move in my general direction. Since my eyes became so bad, he started making all his movement a bit more theatrical when we are alone. He is currently displaying his full attention. Not quite seeing him makes it easier for me. I barely manage to articulate that I want him to have sex with me, that I want him to penetrate me. I see him tilt his head. “Only that?” I simply nod. I’m grateful I don’t know what face he is making. I can make the Akatsuki coat falling off his shoulders. As he starts removing his clothing, I do the same. To be truthful, I wasn’t expecting any objection from him – he never objected to anything before. As I finish undressing before him, I set a vial of lubricant – something I came to find really useful - close to the pillows 

When Kisame makes his way to the bed, I have him sit against the headboard. From this close, his features are clearer, still imprecise, but clearer. He isn’t displaying any negative emotion. His hand goes to his manhood and his eyes shut. I have the sudden urge to run – my heart is beating to fast, sweat is breaking down on my nappe, this is too real. I start by touching myself, like I do when I’m training for this. I get in a daze and a whimper escaped me when Kisame’s hand settles on my hip. I grab the lubricant and my fingers are surprisingly calm when I wrap them around Kisame’s length. He doesn’t even flinch when I touch his cock and start applying the product in stroking motions on him. His breathing however does pick up. 

He slowly opens his eyes when I get on top of him, my chest pressed against his. His hands rest on my waist. I hold his length in my hand as I lower myself on him. His breath doesn’t catch like mine does from the initial insertion. I start slowly moving, feeling the tip almost exiting my body before breaching the rim once more. There is something alluring in the heat and the micro-movements of his cock as it slides gradually inside me, each downward motion making it sink further in. The pain is bordering on unpleasant, but it is worth the slow building pleasure I can read in Kisame’s eyes. His fingers are barely tightening on my waist when the angle changes slightly. His now heavy breathing crashes against my lips from how close we are. As I keep cautiously moving up and down his length, my legs start shaking. Kisame presses his forehead to mine as his hands glide to rest on my ass cheeks. “You should lay on your back.” I tell him that I’m not as weak as he may start thinking I am. His smile is a bit uncertain as he replies: “It will simply be more pleasurable for me.” His eyes are betraying him – for the first time since we’ve known each other, he is lying to me. 

I let him manhandle me until I’m resting on my back. This angle of penetration is unknown to me, and slightly shameful as I lay helpless under Kisame. His forearms are framing my head and my legs rest loosely around his hip. I grip the bedsheets when he starts moving in me, the lack of control over the movements leave me voiceless. Sometimes, my back would arch from either pleasure or as the result of a painful angle, adjusting to Kisame increasing the pace of his thrusts. None of us let out a single moan; it’s barely our breathing quickening and our mouths opening on silent gasps. Sometimes, he would inhale through his teeth when I contact the muscles of my legs after an upward thrust he would make. 

The pleasure is unfortunately affecting my eyesight as even from that close Kisame becomes the blur of a man. I close my eyes and activate my Sharingan, hoping to catch this moment in all the crisp details that it contains. When I open my eyes, Kisame’s hand is preventing me from seeing anything. “Don’t strain yourself. You don’t need to see me. Just feel me, hear me, inhale me…” His thrusting slows as he tells me those words. When he removes his hand, I accept only seeing the mere illusion that he looks like. But feeling him, I do: his cock moving in me, bruising my insides and making my heart jolt in my chest; his fingers when they caress my hair absent mindlessly; his breath that lands on my face, powerful puffs of air after every few movements; and the sweat on his back as I run my hand down his body. Hear him, I do also: his uneven breathing; his low grunts when the angle makes my inner walls constrict; and the sound of the slick in and out of his cock inside me. Inhale him, I do too: the arousal mixing to his own body odor; the sweat that comes from the effort; and the lingering scent of dirt and leaves from forests that we travelled through to get to this inn. “Taste me.” His movement come to a short halt as he bends further down to kiss me. My heart jumps against my rib cage and I hold onto his shoulders as unexpected potent arousal compels me to wrap my legs higher around Kisame’s body. I kiss him back as he starts moving in me once more, his movement slightly more forceful. The way his body is hovering over mine, I feel like I’m disappearing under the gigantic frame of a man that is Kisame. 

I let my hand roam across my own torso, holding on to Kisame’s shoulder blade with the other, feeling the muscles shift under my fingers. My hand goes to stroke my cock before excitement makes my fingers want to touch his length as it buries inside me. I frown involuntarily as I ask him, short of breath, why his isn’t thrusting his whole member inside me. His answer hurts me: “I don’t wanna hurt you.” Without missing a beat, I tell him: “Break me.” This isn’t how I intended to let him know my intentions. I wanted to make him understand that he could take any pleasure he wanted from my body even if it meant bruising me in the process – I was giving him my body as the only thing I could ever give him. 

Taken aback by the sudden feeling of his cock reaching deeper inside me with a force that knock the air out of my lungs, a single tear rolls down my cheek. My eyes are open wide as the pain makes shivers run up my spine. Kisame lets out grunts from the effort put in the violence with which he is forcing himself inside me, to which I respond with trembling breaths. Tears are now dripping freely from the corners of my eyes and that creates an amalgam of feelings in me ranging from ecstatic to downright shattering. Even through my troubled vision, I can see him frowning. He asks me, his voice rough but careful, if he’s hurting me. “Yes.” His girth is hurting me, his length is hurting me, his heart beating erratically against mine is hurting me, especially the way it stutters when I answer. 

Kisame wraps me in his embrace even more: his hands slip under my shoulder blades until they are against the back of my neck; his erection stays buried fully inside me, barely jerking in and out of me; his inner thighs are pressed firmly against the side of my ass cheeks; and his forehead is pressed against mine. He captures my lips with his’ and his tongue gets into my mouth to tease mine. The pain becomes manageable as I concentrate on the stretch he imposes on my body. Kisame peppers kisses on my face as he rolls his hips against mine. I blink my eyes lids rapidly, trying to clear my vision. From so close I finally see the pleasure currently drowning any other emotion in his eyes and the light blush on his cheeks. I raise my hand to touch his face, feeling my heart skip a beat as he starts kissing my wrist with reverence – which I do not deserve now. I run my thumb along his cheekbone, then to his hairline, fascinated by the bead of sweat I collect on the pad of my finger. My inner walls seize up at the fully-formed moan I earn from Kisame for that simple – almost too tender – action. This chain reaction leads to Kisame biting deeply into my wrist. I see remorse creeping through the pleasure in his eyes as he kisses the wound until his lips are bloodied. Despite the slight pain, I frame his face with my hands and kiss his blood smeared lips. I think I hear a content sigh escape him. 

Against his mouth, I say: “I’m not broken yet.” Kisame presses his forehead against mine once more as his hands move down my ribs until they reach and grab my buttocks. He suddenly folds me in two, my knees almost touching my shoulders. Breathing becomes a struggle and pain starts radiating through my whole body. My heart seizes in panic, my hands are gripping the sheets under me as my bottom half rises from the bed and Kisame’s thrusts turn destructive. His face is still so close to mine, he is breathing raggedly against my hair. One of his hand is holding the back of my knee firmly while the other grabs the hair at the back of my head. Though my erection isn’t at its hardest, I feel my orgasm nearing. I open my mouth on a silent cry that would never form as my breathing is so severely constructed. I manage to tell Kisame that I don’t care where or when he comes and finally the right words exit my mouth as I tell him to enjoy my body to his heart’s content. A glimpse of what looks like betrayal goes through his gaze before his closes his eyes and Kisame keeps moving in me. He continues until the penetration turns shallow and erratic. He pulls out until only the tip of his cock is inside me and he masturbates to completion. The sensation of the sperm against my abused rim burns. Kisame moves off me and sits on the side of the bed, his chest rising and falling as fast as his breathing. Sweat is trickling down his spine. 

Once his body stops forcefully bending mine, my torso unfolds: my lungs and heart seem to come apart. Air is flowing through me too fast to be processed and my heart is palpitating unevenly. I sit up abruptly and start coughing until I spit blood on the floor on the other side of the bed. It takes a few moments before my body calms down and I cease coughing blood. I feel nauseous, like my organs were trying to rearrange inside my chest. 

“Did I break you?” Maybe. I don’t actually answer. I activate my Sharingan to look at him. I had given my body to him, but by the way he is already redressing with a frown, Kisame had given it right back to me. It seems like I didn’t give my body to him, like I intended; I barely borrowed his’. Did I just lie to us both?

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to contribute to this ship I feel needs more love by writing a little something. Sorry (or not) that it doesn't end nicely, but it seems like they are not on the page in where this was going.   
> Feel free to kudo or comment.   
> Have a great day everyone!


End file.
